Three's a Company for Death
by Fluehatraya
Summary: It used to be just two set against one another in a game played by death. But then an interloper came in, and the balance may be irrevocably thrown off. Danny in the world of Harry Potter. Rating will change.
1. In Which Thestrals Enlighten

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Danny Phantom.**

**Speech indicating communication between spectral entities will be underlined ****like so****.**

**LINE BREAK**

I flew, the purple doors flitting past me as blurs going unheeded. I had long since lost a concept of where I was in this malevolent green void that was the Ghost Zone, save for my proximity to my tenacious pursuer and the deadly ecto-blasts he shot after me.

Honestly, I had no clue what had happened to set off this hunt, where I am unfortunately the hunted. Let's go back a little, shall we? I had just been coming back from visiting the Far Frozen for further training in my ice powers when something collided suddenly with my side, sending lances of pain stabbing through my body. Looking back I was greeted with the sight of an unfamiliar ghost, all green and writhing and _sadistic_. I had started running (or rather flying) away immediately after I recovered from the initial attack so its image wasn't too clear in my mind (especially in my current state of panic), but its smoldering red eyes were maniacal and its grossly overgrown snake-fanged sneer still sticks with me, chilling my ectoplasmic blood.

Now back to the present situation; it continued after me, a ghostly wind shrieking in agony at its wake and adding to the beat of what passed as my ghostly heart in my ears to send me into an even more furious, desperate flight. My nerves were shot and I could feel adrenaline pulsing through my body like a mad parade that had lost all control and broke loose.

I was quickly becoming fatigued; all measure of time long lost. Although I had come a long way since the first attack, I could fly very fast if I wanted to and this enemy was pushing me past my limits in the raw primal instincts to flee, to get away from something that threatened my existence and probably more. So when a dark rip in the endless green, pinpricks of iridescent white lights like distant stars shuddering and drifting in its being right in front of me, I did not dare to change direction and take a moment to slow down. I charged through the tear in the Ghost Zone without heed of what it may be or where it could lead to, having felt no malice from it like the malevolence that rolled off of my hunter like waves.

A cold breeze carrying musty smells and a cacophony of hesitant chirps and rustlings hit me in the face and ruffled by tussled hair like svelte fingers hit me full in the face as I fell, and I could perceive my knees dropping to and my gloved fingers curling into loamy soil. I heard a sibilant shriek of rage behind me alongside a sound like a zipper being pulled around, and I turned around to see nothing.

No, not nothing, but certainly no unnatural portal revealing a world of acidic deathly green and an evil out for me. Just a lot of very tall trees and some limp foliage, along with eyes. Dozens of pairs of them.

I felt my adrenaline starting to ebb away as fatigue overcame me. Spots rapidly danced over my vision, rapidly coalescing until everything went dark.

**LINE BREAK**

I was slowly coming into consciousness, as tendrils of awareness started connecting me to my surroundings in all senses but sight. Ugh, did anyone get the license plate of the truck that hit me? I felt battered and sore all over, while heat pulsed thickly from a spot under my ribs. Oddly enough though, it felt like something cool had been placed over it, and was a relief against the painful sensation.

Too wiped out to do anything, I was determined to just lie there. The ground was comfy and the air smelled good. Brisk and earthy, it was both relaxing and vivify.

Wait, ground? Had I passed out after another ghost fight again? What had I been . . .?

The memory of the chase came back to me in full emotional clarity, even if the actual events that had transpired were fuzzy from the fact that I really had not been paying attention to anything but escaping so that I could live. I still don't even know why I reacted so strongly to that ghost; it just felt _evil_.

Something huffed _very close _behind me, its warm breath going through my hair and bringing a bad smell – carnivore – to my nostrils. That was more than enough to inform me that I had to get up and get a bearing on my surroundings and situation, _now._

I snapped up into a sitting position, a low hiss escaping between my clenched teeth. Ow! My side! My opposing hand immediately moved to the offending area, and after the pain subsided quickly to a dull throb once more I removed it to bring it to my face. It was covered in my blood – that must mean I'm in human form again, although I can see the faint green glow that it has – and a strange green paste, sticky and thick to the touch, with what were definitely chewed up leaves of some sort giving it a lumpy texture.

Wait, chewed up leaves? _Ew . . . _did that mean that someone's saliva was against my wound? So not cool!

"Calm yourself, colt. It will do no good to overexcite yourself." A voice said. Only it wasn't really a voice, it was a slight warbling sound that I recognized to be this ghost's form of ghost-speech. Every ghost kind had its own special speech that only spectral entities could understand; although it was notable that the humanoid ghosts typically preferred to speak in human languages. So Dad's Ghost Gabber wasn't so useless after all – although I still hate the thing.

Oh . . . crap! My family and friends! How long have I been gone? Are they worried? What if they think that I've run away or am dead?

I felt like freaking out, but forced myself to calm down and shove my concern for it into the back of my mind for now. Freaking out wouldn't do anything, and I had more important things to do before.

Such as direct my attention to this ghost before me . . . which was staring down at me with a bemused expression, its reptilian-like equine head cocked to the side and its pearlescent eyes fixated on me. They had no irises or pupils, or maybe they were entirely irises. Creepy, but that was common among ghosts. However, the color and the fact that this ghost lacked a glow . . . not so much. In fact, it wasn't even floating.

"Err, what are you?" I blurted out, and watched warily as some of the other ghost-creatures came in closer, making the circle they had formed tighter. None of them looked like your average ghost either.

The reptile-horse-ghost-thing continued staring at me, and I realized it may not be able to understand English.

"Err, what are you?" I repeated, this time in my own ghost-speech. I really didn't like speaking like this and would avoid doing so in front of my friends. It just seemed to be one more thing to make me inhuman, the unearthly soft wail, like those maudlin cries you sometimes hear lamenting ghosts as they are portrayed in movies and video games issuing.

"I am a thestral, as the wand-bearing humans around these parts know us as. Even among our kind – not quite ghost, but of kin – in a world foreign to yours you are well-known, young Phantom." The ghost-that-was-actually-not-a-ghost – a thestral, it had called its kind – said. Great, it seemed like for every question I had answered three more questions rose up from them.

"Wands? What do you mean, a world foreign to mine. And what are you if not a ghost?" The questions spouted from the tip of my tongue, rattled off without hesitation. I recognized that I was perhaps being rude, but in my opinion I had every right to want to know these things right now!

"Yes, you have come through Martyr's Gateway. My kind was once ghosts. We were led on an exodus from the Ghost Zone to here. Overtime, our offspring became less connected to the Ghost Zone, until we became mortal, or as close to it as we may come. This is a world that is typically connected to the Ghost Zone as a one-way entrance into the latter. For you to have come here through Martyr's Gateway must mean you were in dire need. As for wands, those would be a conduit through which the wizards and witches of this world work their magic. In fact, we are very much near a castle of their kind." The thestral rattled off, and I stared blankly as I tried to take everything in. I decided that knowing what Martyr's Gateway was would probably be important for when trying to get home, but honestly didn't want to return anytime soon, for I was still rattled by that strange ghost's assault. I suppose the whole ghostly-while-not-ghosts thing would make sense, if they were born and in the living realm. I would have to ask Frostbite about that, surely he would know.

But the last thing totally caught me off-guard, and my mouth was left open in an 'o' shape as I finally processed it.

"We're near a castle of _witches? An entire castle!_" I exclaimed. That did not sound safe!

The thestrals' ears flattened against their thin heads. Realizing that they did not understand me, I returned to ghost-speech.

"A castle of witches? As in, turn you into a toad and brew potions?" I said, keeping my voice quieter so as not to upset the strange, not-fully-living creatures that I found myself in the presence of. They seemed nice, were answering questions, and their teeth looked sharp. Definitely carnivores.

"Well, yes, they can do those things." The thestral said. Although its facial features were nowhere near human, I got the distinct feeling that it was amused.

"Are there no other humans around besides them?" I asked desperately. I was at least hoping to get to civilization.

The thestral shook its head in the negative.

Great. Just great.

"Err, I hate to impose," and I really did hate this, but mostly because of the fact that I was not in my world and had to ask such a thing, "but could I stay with you and your . . . people? Just until I can return to my home?"

"The halfa, running with our herd! It would be an honor."

The other thestrals seemed equally pleased, the excitable ones whooping and prancing about.

"Call me Danny." I said, and couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at my lips. Here were creatures that were not-quite-living like me (although quite different), and were actually glad to have me around. What with most people I knew in my life as Danny Fenton ignoring, shunning, or harassing me, and the ghosts causing me problems or just plain trying to end my existence, it was definitely a nice change.

"I am Tete the Leader."

And so it was that I would come to live with a herd of strange winged reptilian horses who I would later find out only those that had seen death could see, in a dank forest filled with deadly creatures next to a castle of magical people. All in a world that I wasn't even native to.

Could my half-life get any stranger?

**LINE BREAK**

**Author's Note: I love reviews, and would really like to read what you think about the story so far (nice or not) and receive critique. Should I continue writing this and which Harry Potter book do you guys think this should take place in? How do you think I did with Danny's first-person point of view? Also, if I get anything wrong please correct me!**


	2. In Which a Giant Intrudes

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Danny Phantom.**

**Note: As a reviewer informed me (thank you Wings-Of-The-Owl for your input), and I am inclined to agree, that the underlined text for ghost speech is hard on the eyes to read I have hence decided to replace it so that it looks like this instead: ~text~. The first chapter will be re-uploaded with this alteration . . . eventually.**

**LINE BREAK**

I have been living here for a while. It was the about a week before summer officially started when I entered the Ghost Zone, and it would appear to have been around the same time in this part of a new world I have found myself in; the days had started becoming noticeably warmer despite the cool clime of this area, and now it would appear that autumn is rapidly approaching.

If I thought this place was gloomy during the summer, it's even worse now. It's never that warm here; the canopy is so thick that little sunlight permeates and foliage is sparse among the thick tree trunks. Furthermore, the thestrals are nocturnal which means that I had to switch over to their sleeping patterns; not that difficult actually, considering that I'm up for the majority of the night and early morning hunting ghosts on a regular day back home. In fact, the only time I have been able to catch a decent view of the sky is when we travel around the fringe of the Forest (the thestrals don't know it as anything else, and I don't know any forests here besides this one either either) or when I visit the centaurs in their glade.

Yeah, you heard me right, centaurs. I quickly learned after our first (and may I mention rough) meeting that using witty banter is _not _suggested when making first contact with a herd of agitated horse-men with bows. They're really quick to rile, unsurprisingly. However, after dodging and going intangible through the arrows they shot at me, we decided to come to an understanding. In return for teaching me about the forest and not assaulting me, I wouldn't cause any trouble and would keep to myself.

At least, it started out that way. After discovering their affinity for the night sky, we connected. I'm glad for this, for they became far more sensitive to my needs, even giving me some old vests and blankets of theirs (the men may mock me for wearing something over my chest "like a mare", but I am not going to run around a creepy forest in the tattered, filthy remains of my old clothes! Don't ask how they got that way; it's pretty embarrassing.) Although they're more into astrology, it is interesting to hear what they have to say on the subject and I teach them some things about astronomy in return. The looks on their faces when I told them that humans could go into space and had even landed on the moon was priceless!

It may have been nearly an entire season since coming here, but I still don't feel that it is safe to attempt going home yet no matter how much I want and need to. There's just . . . this strange feeling plaguing me. It's as if there is a thin veil that is the only thing separating this world from the Ghost Zone, and I can _sense _the evil that forced me here in refuge skirting about its edge restlessly, sticking close to me. It's nerve-wracking, and makes me wonder when it will give up and why I attracted its attention so. With that said, I haven't even brought this Martyr's Gateway thing back up with the thestrals.

**LINE BREAK**

It is midday now and the herd and I have adjourned for a rest in small clearing near the fringe of the forest. We have been hanging around this area of the Forest for a while now and that, combined with the subtle signs the thestrals were giving off that I had learned to read as anticipation was both confusing me and making me worried. What was it that was making them like this? Is there something endangering them deeper in the forest, and that was why we are near the edge?

I felt the flank of Tete's that I was leaning against contract with tension, and the thestral spoke before I could say anything.

~Turn invisible, now.~

I really should have followed his advice without question judging by his tone of voice, but was taken off-guard and decided to ask why. However, I never got to, as my mouth – which had been open already to speak – dropped further as the reason for Tete's warning appeared before us with foliage rustling noisily in his way.

It was a man, the largest I had ever laid eyes upon. This was really saying something, considering the fact that my own father has set some smaller bears to shame with his bulk. I had never seen anyone (ghosts excluded) larger than Dad; it was a source of consistency and subsequent comfort in my hectic life, no matter how seemingly inconsequential it was.

To have it uprooted was not something I was fond of.

But along with being huge in every aspect, his hair and large beard was a tangled black mess that obscured his face. Combined with the hair-covered hides he wore, he looked like some sort of wild man. I had seen a lot of strange and dangerous things since coming to this world (giant spiders that could speak English would have been considered weird even in Amity Park), but somehow they didn't compare to this man.

The thestrals were not wary of the man, which I took comfort in, but they seemed concerned about me and nudged just a little closer, more protectively, around me. Even though I am capable of taking care of myself in most fights, I nevertheless appreciated the gesture.

The giant seemed even more surprised by my being there than I was of him, however, and raised an eyebrow that looked like a thick caterpillar at the behavior that the thestrals were displaying in accordance with me.

**(A/N: I'm not even going to attempt Hagrid's accent; I do not feel as if I would do it justice. Feel free to imagine it however you want.)**

"What's a kid like you doing out here? The train won't even be here for another couple o' hours!" The large man exclaimed, his beetle-black eyes, glittering with – concern? – looking me over as he took in my appearance. I doubted I was much to look at. My hair had grown long in my absence from civilization, coming down to the nape of my neck with my bangs falling even more so than usual into my face, and my skin was marred with dirt and crossed with scratches and patches of welts from nettle stings. A centaur-made hide vest that was ridiculously large on my lean frame hung down to the ripped-open knees of my jeans, and my sneakers were falling apart.

At the moment thought, I was gaping at him stupidly.

"Huh, train?" I asked. I could slap myself for that. Way to make a first impression.

Now it was the giant's turn to be gobsmacked, and I am pretty sure that my being with a herd of thestrals was pretty confusing enough.

"The train, of course! You know, big and metal?"

I frowned at that. It really didn't answering my question, as ineloquently put as it was. I know what a train is, for Pete's sake!

"I know what a train is! I meant to say what train?" I responded with a hint of causticness.

"The Hogwarts' Express."

I couldn't help it; I snorted very loudly at that. What kind of name is Hogwarts? And why would anyone want to go to a place named that?

"Doesn't ring a bell. What's a Hogwarts anyway? Is that the name of this forest? Or the castle?" I probably would have commented on the name, but decided not to do so; I had already run amuck spiders hungry for my flesh (fortunately only when I'm in my human form, but then again I assume that most creatures don't like the taste of frigid ectoplasm) and had a close shave with the centaurs, and was capable of recognizing that I do not want nor need any more conflict. It's actually sad, how my life living in a forest populated by deadly beasts has been considerably better for my well-being in many aspects than back at home.

The giant was dumbfounded.

"What's Hogwarts? What's Hogwarts! Why, it's only the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world!" He exclaimed. My eyes widened at that. I knew witches and wizards existed here, thanks to the thestrals filling me in on information about the area, but they had neglected to tell me about a school for them!

"You seriously mean to tell me that this Hogwarts place – the castle – is for teaching people how to cast magical spells and brew potions?" I waved my arms around, mimicking the actions I had mentioned. Really now, this was too much to believe! A thought occurred to me, and I gave the huge man another glance over. He wasn't a wizard, was he? He certainly didn't look like it.

The maybe-wizard looked disconcerted, his thick eyebrows knitting together as he mumbled under his breath. Even with my fairly sharp hearing – enhanced from being a half-ghost – I could only make out a few words like 'ridiculous', along with plenty of words that didn't sound like any words I knew at all, such as 'Muggle' and 'Dumbledore'. What were these, magical words to perform wizardry?

"Hello?" I finally asked, losing my patience for waiting. If my curiosity hadn't gotten the better of me, I might have realized the opportunity to sneak off that I'd just let pass me by.

The giant became aware of his surroundings with my inquiry.

"Right. I have no idea how or why you got here or why you're in the company of thestrals, but I'm going to owl the headmaster. He'll know what to do." The giant sounded very confident, and that made me wonder who exactly this headmaster was, ignoring even the unfamiliar terminology.

The wild-looking (not that I had any right to call him this with how I was) man then reached into one of his many pockets, and to my surprise pulled out an owl! He had been literal! Oh man, Sam would have a fit if she had seen this; the owl didn't look too happy, its feathers ruffled and with what I thought was an expression of ire (did birds have facial expressions?). The giant also pulled out some funky-looking paper, a feather, and a small glass bottle containing a black liquid. I watched as he plopped down onto the ground, uncorking the bottle and dipping the quill (huh, maybe this place was still in the medieval era – just my luck; oh, and that was sarcasm) into it before scrawling a message down on the not-paper.

Rolling it up, he placed it in one of the owl's feet and I watched it fly off, but not before it viciously bit one of the giant's sausage-like fingers. The digit was hardly even marked by the attack, leading me to believe that not only did this guy look like he could bend metal with his bare hands, but that his skin must be incredibly tough too.

We sat in silence for several pregnant moments. He was staring at me with unabashed curiosity, his eyes flicking from myself to the several thestrals gathered behind me.

"So . . ." I started.

"I'm waiting for Dumbledore to reply before deciding what to do with you." The giant responded, answering my unspoken question of why we weren't doing anything else. I scowled at the implication that I would be subjected to whatever they decided. Unbeknownst to them, I wasn't defenseless, and had to restrain from smirking at the thought. If they tried to do anything to me they were in for a surprise.

"Danny." I said after many more moments.

"Hm?"

"My name."

"Ah. Hagrid."

I nodded, and leant back against Tete, reassured by his familiar presence. The giant – Hagrid was his name, I knew now – gave me another look of surprise by that, but there was also something else to it. Pride? Joy? Something like that.

Sigh, and here I was, having a relatively peaceful break from all of the ghost fighting. Guilt squirmed in my belly at the thought that I was neglecting my duty, but I squashed it down. After all, it wasn't like I could return home at any time, and there were several people back in Amity Park who were competent ghost hunters.

All I can do now is pray that Murphy doesn't stick his nose into my business, I suppose. Although I had the nagging suspicion that unwelcome things were looming in my future, and I had come to trust in this feeling.

Great.

**LINE BREAK**

**Author's Note: First off, I'd like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Schoolwork has been piling up a lot, and I'm not sure when I'll get the chance to update next. Secondly, I am very sorry that this chapter is very sucky. I tried rewriting it several times but it just ended up coming out bad each time, so I've finally given up on it and posted so that you guys can have something to read and so that I can move on to the next chapter. Also, I'd like to thank everybody who reviewed, both signed and anonymous; every single one made me so happy, and I loved the input I received! I always welcome constructive criticism, suggestions, and ideas from you guys!**


	3. In Which Witches Are Not Green

**Disclaimer: I own neither Danny Phantom nor Harry Potter.**

**Note: Once again, I am not attempting Hagrid's accent. I am truly sorry for this, but I'm not confident that I could do it right, and I'd rather have you readers imagine it than have to suffer through a poor attempt at replicating it.**

**LINE BREAK**

Hagrid and I have been sitting mostly in silence for a while. Occasionally we'd make an attempt at conversation, but it would awkwardly trail off. What little we did exchange was mostly basic facts about ourselves: he was a groundskeeper who lived in the hut I'd seen when passing through the fringe of the forest and he had a pet boarhound. He learned that I am not from around here (I'm pretty sure my accent gave it away, even if he doesn't know where I'm from and I never mentioned) and that my parents are inventors. I don't think he quite understands what kind of inventors, though; he started asking me what kind of potions or spells or magical whatnot they made, and all I could give him as an answer was a blank stare.

Needless to say, it was not a comfortable wait, and it came to mine – and it was quite apparent his also – relief when the owl returned. It looked to be in a better mood now, and its feathers were far neater than before. Nevertheless, it was still disgruntled as it held one of its feet out for Hagrid to take the rolled up letter from.

He read through it, and although I put on unconcerned airs, I was actually both nervous and curious. What did this headmaster have to say? Would he try to have me driven off of the grounds? Because, as unsuitable as living in a forest is, it was still the only place I knew in this strange world where magic existed and time was apparently stuck in the medieval ages. Come to think of it, what had Hagrid written to the headmaster?

"The headmaster would like to see you. However, I have my job to do and he has to prepare to welcome returning and new students to the school; it's the first day of the school year, after all." The giant informed me, and I smiled sheepishly. Obviously I had not chosen a good day to be discovered.

"So, you're going to accompany me on my job. You're not to leave my sight, got it?"

I nodded, although I resented the feeling of being kept on a short leash.

"Right now, let's get going. I have to get the thestrals hitched up to the carriages to take the second years and up to the castle from the station." Hagrid said, standing up and upsetting the owl that had perched on one of his knees. The owl fluttered off and hooted indignantly as he caught it in a dustbin lid sized hand before returning it to one of his pockets.

"Dude, that has to count as animal abuse." Apparently, the filter between my mouth and brain had been turned off again.

"Nah, he's a tough little fella." Hagrid stated dismissively, staring down at me. I pushed myself off of Tete and stood up, although he was still staring down at me, which was unnerving but not something new. It was just a far more dramatic distance than before.

"Come on, up and to! You'll get plenty of meat afterwards!" Hagrid addressed the thestrals in a coaxing tone, and I watched as they got to their hooves and shook the numbness out of their skeletal limbs, cracking the vertebrae in their necks and readjusting their leathery wings. I had discovered that, while they could not fly without the wings, the wings were too small even for the scrawny creatures to fly with. Rather, they used their latent ghost powers to bolster themselves in the air.

I shot Tete a look of inquiry.

~Hagrid is a friend of the Forest. We always give him aid in pulling the wand-bearers to the castle when they return, and in exchange receive near-frequent visits that bring with them fresh meat.~ He answered my unspoken question of why they were following Hagrid docilely.

"Beautiful creatures, aren't they? Terribly misunderstood." Hagrid said, casting me a sad glance for a moment before turning his head away as he started leading the thestrals out of the forest and down to the village I had caught a few glimpses of. It was a village of witches and wizards (or "wand-bearers"), as the thestrals had informed me, hence why I had never actually gone into it before. I had to jog (half-stumbling thanks to the condition of my sneakers which, come to think of it, I really should just get rid of now) to keep up with Hagrid's inhumanly long strides.

Alright, what was up with that look he gave me, as if a family member had just died recently?

I edged closer to one of the thestrals and whispered into her ear.

~Alright, who close to me died?~

~What do you mean?~

~Did you see how he looked at me?~

~Oh, that. It just shows that he cares. After all, humans cannot see my kind unless they have seen death; it's a remnant of our ghost heritage's ability to go invisible, only it's selective and we have no control over it.~

~But I've never seen someone die!~ I spoke slightly louder then, and Hagrid's head whipped about, searching for whatever produced the soft wail. If I wasn't holding my breath I would sigh in relief that, although he remained wary, he seemed to drop the issue.

The thestral shot me a deadpan look.

~You're half-dead. If anyone should be capable of seeing us then it's you.~

Oh. Right. I blushed, rubbing the back of my neck.

We were soon leaving the forest and heading down an incline towards the village, which looked like a tourist trap to me. Then again, if this place was in the medieval ages then I suppose it only made sense that it looks like that. This was the first time I have been out in the open without any trees surrounding me for months, and I was looking all around. The landscape was craggy and green, and I wondered where exactly in the world I had wound up in. Then it occurred to me again that this wasn't my world and I seriously doubted that any of the geography was the same, even if there are people (and creatures) capable of understanding and speaking English here. I mean, that's already one insane coincidence in itself – imagine if I winded up in a country, or even a continent, that exists back in my world! Ha! The very idea was laughable.

Another thing that I noticed that it was raining. I really hadn't paid much attention to it before, since I'd had the forest canopy for cover, but now I had nothing for such. Looking up I spied dark clouds shifting overhead like a restless snake and shuddered at how ominous they appeared. I thought I could even hear some distant thunder. It was pretty cold, and were I not a half-ghost with an ice core at that then I'm sure I would be shivering in my vest and threadbare jeans.

Entering the village, I was soon surprised by what I was seeing. It was very clean and hygienic looking for a place stuck in medieval times, and the women weren't ugly crones with green skin and warts! Alright, so maybe I had been too quick to make assumptions, but what I know of them comes from fairytales, and it's not like Hagrid is your typical person either.

All of these people actually look normal, if you exclude the fact that the men wear dresses. Then I noticed that my stares were being returned unabashedly, and I shrank into myself. I have never particularly liked receiving attention, and here I am getting a lot of it. Hagrid, whom I presume is a frequent visitor, wasn't as focused on, and from what I could tell (the thestral's words coming to mind), only a few of them could see the herd of skeletal reptile-horses (months later and I still have no clue what exactly they're supposed to be).

Fortunately, we reached the station quickly, and I hoped we wouldn't have to be here long. The rain was coming down harder and where before it had hardly been noticeable now it dyeing the land a dreary grey and falling on everything like bullets. However, rather than waiting around, Hagrid had to harness the thestrals to the hundred carriages that were lined up and expected me to help him with it. Probably since I get along with them and also under the excuse that he's supposed to keep an eye on me. Ugh, this was so not fair. I'd better be getting paid for this.

Let's just say that it was awkward to harness the thestrals. First Hagrid had to show me how to do it, and he made it look way easier than it was. The thing though is that Hagrid is huge, whereas I'm undersized, and the thestrals also happen to be big. Next there is the whole aspect that I know and can communicate with these creatures. Then let's not forget the weather. It's wet, I'm soaked, and the ground is muddy and I keep slipping!

The time seemed to drag on forever, and despite how the weather already was it was becoming darker as the day became later and later. Finally we were done (I scowled upon seeing that Hagrid still looked full of energy and quite chipper), and he strode back to the station while I trudged behind in a grumpy fashion. Stupid Hagrid discovering me, stupid me not going invisible, stupid headmaster not having the time to see me straight away. It's such a shame that the Box Ghost isn't here, 'cause I could really do with a session of misplaced aggression right now.

We returned to the station just as a train pulled in, and I had to gape at it. Although I didn't know anything about trains, I did know that it was beautiful. It was a brilliant scarlet in color that was not toned down at all by the miserable weather and steam issued forth from it in a long trail that seemed whimsical. Through the glass windows I could see the bobbing of lanterns – a stark contrast to the lightlessness outside – and a swarm of dark shapes moving about.

For the first time the reality of the train hit me. There was a train! There was no way this place was actually in the medieval ages – it really must be a tourist trap! Had I not seen what I had living in the forest all summer I would have been plunged into doubt over the actual authenticity of the existence of magic in this world.

The dark shapes quickly revealed themselves to be children in black dresses (even the guys), and I noticed how their ages ranged from that of middle school to high school. They piled out of the train (no luggage with them I observed, so either they had brought none or they were going to be collected at a later time, probably by other people). They squealed and cried out as wind and rain buffeted them.

A voice called out to Hagrid, and he bellowed back. I did my best to follow his gaze to determine whom it was that he was addressed by, but could not see over the heads of the many students thronging about on the station, many of them being taller than I was. I noticed the ones close by staring curiously at them and, no longer in a decent mood, glared at them. Most of them averted their eyes, but others didn't until they were apparently satisfied with staring at me.

Hagrid started calling out for first years to gather around him and once the train was all cleared out and the first years assembled, told them to follow him. Presuming this meant me also I accompanied them, and realized that we were heading away from the thestral-drawn carriages. I sighed, staring wistfully in that direction until they left my sight.

We reached a harbor, which had some pitiful looking rowboats bobbing in the treacherous-looking waters. I shuddered at the sight; were we really expected to cross the lake in _these?_ A quick glance around confirmed that the younger kids all around me were not at all enthusiastic about that.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called out, directing me into his own boat. Once all of the first years were all loaded in – to their apparent misery – the boats set out moving of their own volition, carrying me closer and closer to Hogwarts, and perhaps to my fate. Or maybe I was just being melodramatic.

Maybe.

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**Author's Note: I typed this up all in one day! Yay for me! But really, that's where boredom gets me. I planned to have Danny meet Dumbledore in this chapter, but it ended up becoming another transitory chapter, sorry. Skipping a lot of time, like I did with the beginning of the last chapter, always makes me feel off through. Anyways, I got this out way earlier than planned (thanks to all of you reviewers; you guys are amazing), so I s'pose at least it has that going for it. All reviews whether they be of constructive criticism, your thoughts/ideas/opinions, suggestions, or just appreciation are all welcomed and appreciated very much!**


	4. In Which Animate Objects Are Creepy

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Danny Phantom**

**TO BE HONEST I WROTE THIS YEARS AGO AND TOTALLY FORGOT TO UPLOAD IT. So now I'm not even editing it because it needs to go up. Heck, I'm not even looking at it because the writing makes me cringe. Also, I'm planning to eventually revise and continue some of my old stories, and this is among those ones.**

**LINE BREAK**

My gasp at the sight of Hogwarts was echoed by those of the first years making the journey alongside me. I had seen it before when skulking about the fringes of the forest, but never like this. It was as if somebody had relocated it straight out of a fairytale and plopped it down here. While it was dark outside, the castle's windows shone a warm orange, and the myriad lights touched upon the lake's inky surface like stars in an earthbound swatch of night sky.

As it was dark and the actual castle itself difficult to make out even with my better-than-human night-vision, I cupped my hands around my eyes and shuffled closer to the bow of the rowboat, allowing my ghost half to leak through my eyes – turning them a glowing green – to further enhance my vision in the dark.

Hagrid had heard my gasp and chuckled as he smiled fondly at Hogwarts. While I'm sure he doesn't quite trust me yet (even though he doesn't necessarily seem wary), I think he's started to warm up to me.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" he asked me.

I just nodded. I had seen examples of castles both earthly and spectral, but none of them had this kind of magical presence.

Judging by Hagrid's tone of voice, he must really care about the place to take such pride in it, much like how a person takes pride in family. Once again I'm reminded of dad; no matter how much of a screw-up we are (read: me), he still doesn't let that affect his love and pride for his family and friends. I decided that I would hold my tongue around Hagrid if I found anything to criticize about Hogwarts, even if it does have the stupidest name ever.

After a while watching the encroaching castle lost its novelty and I started taking in the rest of my surroundings. Lake, sky, other rowboats. There really wasn't much to see, even if the sight of the stars was breathtaking here (but I'd had quite some time of ventures at night to get used to them). The kids were interesting enough to watch, though.

Some of them were huddled together in their groups of four in the boats, probably getting to know one another, or at the very least seeking warmth. Others were fixated on the castle, much as I had been before the wonder of seeing it from this new perspective wore off. There were also those who were leaning a bit too close towards the water, as if to reach out and touch the glassy surface. I noticed that a lot of them were shooting me glances though, and I didn't blame them. I was the only one older than any of them save for Hagrid, and unlike the giant I was clearly not part of the faculty.

Ducking beneath a curtain of ivy concealing a rocky overhanging, we reached some underground docks and disembarked, slipping on the slick stone and up a flight of stairs until we reached an antechamber of considerable size. Despite the thick stone of the walls and wood of the doors I could hear countless babbling voices forming a susurrus from behind the shut double-doors that were one of only a few exits, the way we came from included. The rest of the students were probably just beyond.

I remained expectantly at Hagrid's side, knowing he would sort my situation out and not particularly caring to mingle with children younger than me.

I didn't have to wait long for something to happen, since only a few moments later a prim-looking witch strode through the doors, which opened effortlessly (scratch that – with nobody moving them!) before her. Craning my neck to the side, I could just catch a glimpse of a vast, bright-lit room and a stage through the doors behind her. Her gaze roved over the first years and alighted for a moment upon me. I involuntarily tensed, worried that I had fallen on the bad side of such a stern-seeming woman already; I have a way of making adults dislike me just with my existing, it feels like. Her nose flared and lips thinned with disapproval (I suppose I deserve that with the state I'm in), but to my relief she did not linger on my appearance, instead turning to my giant companion.

"The first years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid stated the obvious, receiving a nod.

"Very well then. The headmaster will meet with you and our young guest in his office after the feast. He has informed me to tell you that refreshments await the both of you there," the witch replied before taking control of the pre-adolescents from Hagrid. Despite how unruly the kids had seemed she managed to organize them single-file and march out onto the stage in a matter of seconds with terseness to her commands. I almost snickered at the panicked expressions of the first years, resisting the urge due to sympathy. Whoever decided that they had to be presented in front of the rest of the school – all upper years at that – was cruel without doubt.

Hagrid clapped a dustbin lid-sized hand on one of my shoulders, causing my legs to nearly buckle under the surprise force (and while I could probably carry several Hagrids in my ghost form, my human form's strength when not consciously bolstered with ectoplasm is only remarkable for a human of my size).

"Right! I'll just take you to the headmaster's office, then," said Hagrid boisterously as he led me through the only small door, ducking his head so that it only just grazed the top of the doorway. It was ironic, that such a plain door was what marked the entrance of my first true exposure to the magical world. Sure, I had seen giant spiders, centaurs, and objects that moved on their own, but none of those were that special; especially for someone who lived in Amity Park and was half-ghost of all things themselves.

I think that my neck was going to fall off if I kept jerking it every which way. Hagrid takes really long strides, meaning that I have to jog to keep up while trying to take in the decorations in the halls. There were moving, talking paintings! Some even called out greetings, and they seemed sentient. Were they actual people stuck inside the paintings?

"Nah, just some charms and enchanted paint," he answered, and I could have buried my head in my hands when I realized that I had asked that question aloud.

We continued in this fashion, and during this time I picked up a healthy wariness of suits of armor (ones with armor, that is), when I noticed that their helmets followed me. It was creepy, and I've possessed objects before, so I know it isn't a ghost (not that my ghost sense remaining dormant didn't give it away). These magic people sure like their should-be-inanimate objects to display traits of uncanny consciousness, don't they?

Surprisingly though, despite the old architecture and furnishings the place was kind of normal. Sneaking peeks into rooms that we passed showed that most were used for storage, a typical classroom (albeit without any technology, but I'd already noticed that these wizards and witches don't seem to use anything modern), or set up like a college lecture hall.

Seeing all these reminders of school makes me want to go back to the forest.

Hagrid and I were just heading up a large marble staircase when it shuddered beneath us. Reflexively I clutched at the banister and metaphysically reached for my core. I felt the cool essence of my ghostly nature roll like fog through my blood, making me feel safer.

"Ah, should've warned you, I should have! Not to worry, the staircases do this from time to time," Hagrid informed me, chuckling at what I assume was my expression as I looked around at him, his wild beard not quite hiding a smile. I scowled and turned back to poke my head over the side, looking down at the floor as we moved over it. As far as I could tell there was absolutely no reason why the stairs should be moving.

Magic.

Really, who would make stairs that move at seemingly random? That's just impractical. What's even more mindboggling is that these wizards don't even see the problem with that! They just nonchalantly accept flaws in design and go along with the flow?

I don't know whether to applaud them or be scared of how sane they may or may not be. Maybe both.

If I end up staying here though it'd be cool to check the place out in my ghost form. I have a feeling that this brief walk, my only exposure to this new world, hasn't even scratched the surface of what it holds. It's kind of scary, not having a clue as to what these people can do with magic, but I suppose at least they don't know about my ghost powers.

The stairs came to a halt and I wasted no time in getting off them. Although walking much less hurriedly, with how large he was Hagrid reached the next floor at roughly the same time I did, only to overtake me in his guiding. Not knowing where I was going I had no objection to that, stepping quickly to keep pace and hoping that I didn't look like an idiot to anyone watching. I might have discounted this, had there not been any paintings. The walls literally have eyes and ears in the form of those things! The implications are pretty damn disturbing.

I was kind of starting to wonder if we were _ever_ going to reach the headmaster's office, since I'm pretty sure this castle has no respect for conventional bounds in terms of space. I know for a fact that a lot of the rooms and hallways can't exist when setup the way they are in relation to one another, and some of them just plain shouldn't _exist_.

Actually, it reminds me a little of the Ghost Zone, just less freaky and otherworldly. Hogwarts' coloring is also easier on the eyes. The castle is also probably less likely to mutilate or kill me, and I'm certainly not complaining about that.

Finally we stopped . . . in front of a grotesque (I always thought they were gargoyles, but according to Sam the statues are grotesques and apparently gargoyles are just waterspouts). Aren't those things supposed to be outside of castles, not inside?

"Err . . . Hagrid?" I asked as he said something I didn't quite catch, failing after a moment of searching to figure out what to call him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nevermind." The grotesque had just moved from its original place, revealing a spiral staircase.

"Headmaster Dumbledore's office is right up here."

Taking a deep breath, I followed after Hagrid. With nary a jolt, the staircase glided into motion, and the similarity to an escalator, something that I was familiar with and associated with malls instead of magical schools, almost settled my nerves.

**A/N: In the next chapter, probably, Danny is going to realize just how much of a fish out of water he is, considering that he is only just starting to grasp the concept that this is an entirely new **_**culture**_**.**


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